Poor Thing
by Shadows' Nightmare
Summary: One Shot. Minor Sweeney Todd/Hellsing crossover. Captain Bernadotte of the Wild Geese ship returns to London after being away for a year, hoping to reunite with the girl he fell in love with. When she doesn't turn up, he goes looking for her. As he asks around, he discovers to his dismay that a year ago, something happened to her. . . something not very nice.


Author's Notes: Before anyone asks, I can't write a full Sweeney Todd/Hellsing crossover. Not only do I not have time to update the fics I've already started, but I can't see the Hellsing characters making the decisions the Sweeney Todd characters do. While I can see Alucard as Sweeney Todd, Rip Van Winkle as Mrs. Lovett, Integra as Lucy, Seras as Joanna, Pip as Anthony, Major Montana as Judge Turpin, the Doktor to act as his Beadle, etc. Let's face it: Most of the plot of Sweeney Todd hinges on the characters being rock stupid, which I can't do for Hellsing characters. I do like the setting and basic character archetypes, which is how I came up with this.

Disclaimer: I do not make money off of Sweeney Todd or Hellsing.

* * *

The crew of the _Wild Geese_ grinned as they drifted into the London harbor. They inhaled deeply—only to cough it back out. There was nothing like the smoke of industrial factories, or the thick heavy smog that engulfed the city like a dark cloud. No sir. Nothing like it in the world. And most of the crew should know. They had sailed the world; beheld its wonders. From the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru, but there was no place like London! They could smell the sewage in the waters, see the smog that covered the skies; yet within it they could hear shop owners sell their wares, and hear the city bells ring. Whatever they did, wherever there went, they knew there was no place like London.

They suddenly heard laughter.

Behind them, the crew saw their captain strike a match to light a cigarette. "Sorry lads, but one would think you have never been to London, with the way you stare."

"Yeah, but… it's been so long."

"And yet you let that dazzle you like star-struck school girls?"

They snickered.

"Look who's talking, Captain!"

"Yeah, you've got more reason to be 'star-struck' than any of us."

Pip could not help smiling in agreement, though he lowered his hat over his eyes to hide it.

After the ship was docked and situated, the captain and several of the crew members disbarred. They were lowly, common mariners that used their ship to carry goods to and fro for rich blokes too lazy to do it themselves. Their captain, Pippen de Bernadotte, was the most cultured of his men, but that was not saying much as they were "the scum of the earth," even by London standards. And that speaks volumes, as Queen Victoria's London had some of the most frightfully dense, overpopulated, miserably impoverished slums in the entire world.

Speaking of which, as the captain and several crewmen entered town, a hunched beggar woman with tattered shawls and wild yellow hair shambled near.

"_Alms… alms for a miserable woman!__  
_

_On a miserable chilly mornin'__!"_

One of the crew took pity on her, as she didn't even seem to know what time it was as it was evening, and handed her a shiny penny.

"Oh, thank you, sirs, thank you…"

Once the coin was safely pocketed, her countenance changed. She was no longer a vague little woman, but as fierce and sharp as a hawk. Her eyes were wide, and her grin lecherous.

"_How'd you like a little squiff, dears?_

_A little jig-jig, a little bounce around the bush__?_

_Wouldn't you like to push me parsley?_

_It looks to me, dears, like you've got plenty there to push!"_

Even the _Wild Geese_ crew, who wouldn't even need to think before pouncing on anything with a "bush" when offered, were revolted by the mad old woman. Her behavior was too lewd, her movements too manic, her eyes and grin too empty, and her clothes too tattered, dirty, rotten, and smelly. They didn't even think the mildewed yellow and brown of her stockings was natural. The way she bumped her hips against theirs, winked suggestively, ran her tongue over her remaining teeth, and grabbed at what they had to "push" was gross even for them.

Of course, several crewmen probably would have taken her up on her offer once they had time to think twice about it, but after their knee-jerk revulsion she suddenly turned back into the vague little old woman that wondered around asking pitifully for alms about the streets.

"_Alms… alms for a pitiful morning? _

_Wot's got wandering wits?"_

Their captain stood smoking off to the side. When she approached, he handed the coin she sought. "Oh, thank you, dear! Thank you kindly!" She then peeked up from beneath her wild hair. Her face was covered with dirt, and the teeth that weren't rotted were missing. "Hey, don't I know you, mister?"

"I doubt it," he said without looking at her.

He was too busy staring intently into London.

He snuffed his cigarette out and took to the streets.

"Oh, surely _you_ could take a little squiff, dear?" she leered.

"Not today, cher," he said, and ignored her even as she repeated the same spiel.

"We could do a little jig-jig, dear!"

He tried to ignore her for a long while, until he finally lost his patience and shouted, "Off with you! Fous le camp!"*

The little hunched woman screeched like a harpy and scrambled away. Once she was half-way down the street, she seemed to have forgotten all about the _Wild Geese_ crew and the captain that chased her away, and she went back to asking for alms as though nothing had happened.

The crew shuddered.

A young man running a nearby shop said, "Pardon me, sir. But there's no need to be scared of the likes of her. She's only a half-crazed beggar woman. London's full of them."

Right on cue, a half-crazed beggar man cackled so sharply they thought he would break glass. He sat hunched on the ground, leaning against the wall of the young man's shop. A skinny little pipe poked out of his long, grey scraggly beard, which in turn hung out the hood that covered his sooty face. He wore tattered coats, scarves, and fingerless gloves, with only his bony, sooty fingers and feet exposed, which were covered in dirty bandages; a leper.

When he spoke quickly. His voice was still high, but also paradoxically husky and dark:

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit__  
_

_And the vermin of the world inhabit it!__  
_

_And its morals aren't worth what a pig can spit__  
_

_And it goes by the name of London!_

"No one asked you," Pip glared.

The old beggar man cackled again and continued:

_At the top of the hole sit the privileged few__  
_

_Making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo__  
_

_Turning beauty into filth and greed!_

"I said enough!" Pip shouted.

"Did you now? Did you say? Did you make my day?" the old man cackled.

"You're just a crazy old bastard," Pip snarled, "And you're wrong about London. There is beauty in that city. Beauty you can't begin to comprehend."

The beggar man laughed. "Beauty, eh? Then it's been eaten and stomped and spit, turned to filth and greed and shit..."

"SHUT YOU GODDAMNED MOUTH!" Pip thundered, so loudly and suddenly that everyone present flinched, including people down the block.

After a pause, the crazy old man cackled again and chanted darkly:

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit_

_And it's filled with people that are filled with shit,_

_And the vermin of the world inhabit it.._

"I've had enough of this," Pip snarled, and stormed away.

"I too have sailed the world and seen its wonders!" the old beggar called after him. "For the cruelty of men is as wondrous as Peru, and there's no place like London!" When Pip didn't answer, the old beggar shouted, "You are young, lad! Life has been kind to you. But don't you worry, lads. You will learn!"

"That's enough, sir!" the young man said to the beggar man. "I let you beg in front of my shop, but if you keep scaring customers away, I'll have to kindly ask you to leave!"

The old man laughed so loud it seemed his piercing laugh could shatter every window on the streets. "Oh, kindly ask me to leave, eh? What ever will I do!"

"Enough! Please, pay no attention to him. I hope you have a evening, sirs!" the young shopkeeper called behind them.

Something about the young man's well-meaning farewell seemed to drown out the old man's doleful warning.

Despite the gloomy evening fog and the shabby little people tripping about, the _Wild Geese _crew wove through the streets with grins. They had been away for a year, sailed the world; beheld its wonders. From the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru, but they still felt there was no place like London. Along the dark cobblestone streets, where tattered paupers begged for alms and sorry-looking shop keepers turned on the evening lights to their shops, they heard pretty women sing from their windows and church bells ring in the air. The _Wild Geese_ crew knew that a country's true character could always be found among its poor. Despite all the filth, muck, grime, and poverty strewn around the city like piss, the Geese knew there was true beauty to be found within this city. Beauty in pretty women, yellow hair, and lovely singing voices. Beauty in kindness, character, good will, high spirits, perseverance through hardship; and none of it in any place but London!

They knew one girl who embodied all the characteristics of that. Their captain had won her heart, and now returned to ask for her hand.

The _Wild Geese_ crew soon made their way into a seedy little public house they used to frequent the last time they were in London. It was small, shady, and shabby. The music was grating at best. The serving women were ugly and slovenly. The bartender was forever "cleaning" glasses with rags even dirtier than the cup. He was a dumb prat that loved tasteless, dirty jokes. The women in the back rooms were not much smarter or cleaner. In all the countries the crew had traveled, the girls in the back room were some of the ugliest and stingiest creatures they had ever seen.

Despite this, the crew smiled nostalgically on entering the establishment. A few serving girls who recognized them smiled and winked on seeing them.

Despite how shady the establishment was, a waitress came to serve them right quick. She was fat and dumpy, but had a cheerful air.

"Right you are, lads, what can I get'cha?"

"Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Pip grinned.

"What're you on about?"

When she spotted Pip's grin from the dim light, she let out a loud cry. "HEAVEN'S TITS! IT'S YOU!"

They all hugged and exchanged greeting and caught up.

"Your boobs have gotten bigger!" one of the men exclaimed.

"Aye, just had a little one, I did."

"So did I!" one of the men exclaimed, pointing to his pecker, and they all laughed.

"What're you all doin' back here? I thought you had business across the pond!"

"We did, and now we've come back," Pip grinned.

"And it took ya long enough! How long's it been? A year? You can grow a baby in that time!"

"And you just did!"

They laughed again.

"Right you are, sirs," the woman said, "What can I get'cha? The usual, yea?"

"You still got it, Maudy," they grinned.

"I should say so, after ten kids with eight fathers," she exclaimed, swaying her hips.

One of the men slapped her rear playfully and they all cheered as she sauntered away.

The men chatted excitedly among themselves as they waited for their drinks, and a few minxes came over to catch up; but Pip's eye wandered. It followed the other serving girls as they served other patrons, hovered near the curtains that led into the back room, drifted through the smoke of the room, and inspected the faces of every soul in the dark, smoke-filled room. All dirty, grungy, poor, filthy low-lives like them. Not at all the one he sought.

Maudy soon came back with their drinks. "There ye are, loves. If ye need anything else, just give me a holler."

"Aye!" they cheered, and downed their beers.

"Oh, Maudy," Pip said as she passed by again.

"What is it, love?"

Pip tried to keep it casual. He leaned back and said nonchalantly, "Whatever happened to that opera rat that used to work here?"

"Oh, you want ta see Seras Victoria? Local favorite, that one."

"Yup, that's the one," Pip said, and had to cover his face with his hat to hide his excitement.

The crew smiled knowingly. While their captain tried to hide it, they knew he had been thinking of no one else since they left.

Seras had been a young "opera rat" that worked as a serving girl in that seedy pub when she wasn't dancing at Her Majesty's Theatre on the West End (or Wealthy Side) of London. During Queen Victoria's reign, most opera houses and theatres paid their performers next to nothing, and even then only after successful shows. Since every show needed at least six to eight weeks of unpaid rehearsals, most performers had to take side jobs to afford just to live. This was how the _Wild Geese_ crew met and grew close to Seras, who had to work most afternoons and every night to afford her rent and meals.

Maudy's smile suddenly dropped. "She don't work here no more."

The smiles dropped from the crew's faces. They stared in shock.

"... What?"

"Don't work here no more?"

"What do you mean?!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Exactly as I said, she don't work here no more!"

"No!" one of the crew exclaimed.

"Why?!"

"You tell me!" Maudy said, "There weren't no warning or nothing. She just didn't show up fer work one day. I tried to hold her job, since it ain't like her, disappearing like that, but I had to replace her with another girl. I figure it must be bad since she's never late - even if she got attacked by wild dogs, she'd find a way ta get here - but she just didn't show up, and I haven't seen no head nor heal of her since."

"How long ago was that?" one of the men asked.

They sent apprehensive glances to their captain's dark, unreadable, emotionless expression.

"'Bout a year ago," Maudy said. "Come to think of it, it weren't too long after you louts left."

They all had a sinking feeling. This was the worst answer she could have given.

"If you do happen ta find her, you let me know," Maudy said, "She was a good worker, that one. Not serving drinks, mind you, she was piss poor at that - as I'm sure ye know, love." Maudy smirked and tapped her nose at their captain. The first night they met, Pip had mocked and tried to grope her, and Seras had responded by nearly breaking his nose. "All the same, she was a good girl. If I could have her back... well..." Maudy straightened out. "If wishes were poppies, we'd all be dreaming."

And she walked away.

The Geese cast worried glances toward their captain.

It was as if a dark cloud hung over him. He remained distant and taciturn all night and well into the next day. He turned in early instead of staying up to drink and enjoy women's company with his men, like any other night, and he went out alone the next day. He looked everywhere, asked everyone he could think of that might have known _anything_. It was all for not. The East End (or Poor End) of London was too crowded with too much filth, disease, and poverty. Most people on the East End were struggling just to make it to the end of each day, and possibly a place to sleep every night. Disappearances and deaths of poor, desperate folk that went unnoticed by their neighbors were as common as rats on a ship. And Pip had spent most of his life aboard ships.

In fact, he had had to leave London on his ship to continue his livelihood when he left her. Seras did not want to leave Her Majesty's Theatre because she did not want to give up dancing. She had worked too hard for too many years, training to become a ballet dancer, to quit when literally a lifetime of training was just starting to pay off. She couldn't leave, even though she looked miserable saying it.

"I'll write to you until I return," he said.

"I'll wait for you," she said.

And yet she was not here. What happened to her?

Pip walked along the dark, dingy, dirty, cobblestone streets of London with a dark, unreadable expression. He had asked everyone in the tavern, the surrounding shops, the boarding houses, the fellow ballerinas, and even the folks over at Her Majesty's Theatre. No one knew where she was. Same story, different details. They hadn't seen her in months, nothing remarkable happened before she vanished to give them a clue what happened, etc. And so much time had passed, he doubt there was anyone around who might remember.

"Cheer up, captain!" one of his men said, "Maybe she found a better job."

"Yeah! Maybe she had a run of good luck and quit to get a respectable position, like a maid or something."

Pip scoffed. "You know they don't hire ballet dancers."

It was true. At the time, Victorian society viewed ballet dancers as little better than strippers or prostitutes. While ballet was a classy pastime to _watch_, it was considered a disgraceful thing to _do_. After all, ballerinas danced with their necks, arms, and legs exposed before large audiences in thin gowns. That was what Pip liked best about Seras' dancing, honestly. Seeing her dressed in that cute little gossamer gown, with that tulle skirt that came up almost to her knee. To see it spread out as she twirled and lift whenever she did high kicks, exposing her long beautiful legs to the world. How those legs went on forever when she danced on the tips of her toes, when she twirled so the skirt fanned completely. How she smiled when she twirled, and spread her arms like a flower welcoming the heavens. How her eyes lit up and her smile brightened as she danced toward him, extending her little white hand like she was inviting him to join her in some heavenly realm or the moon on a string...

Seras could make any place she danced look like heaven. Whether it was the soft, colorful, romantically lit theatre or the dingy, smoky little pub, Pip would forget where he was or what he was doing as he watched her dance. She often did as she cleaned up after closing hours, and it wasn't until after she took her bow (as she always did after she drew to a close) that Pip realized they were in a dump. She was such an amazing girl...

"Maybe she became some rich bloke's concubine," one Goose suggested.

"Ma cher would never do that!" Pip snapped.

Elegant and graceful as she was with dancing, Seras was anything but in person. At work, she used to get hilariously flustered whenever the patrons got too perverted. There was many a fun night when the _Wild Geese_ crew would sing dirty songs just to get a rise out of her, and she never failed to deliver. At the theatre, when hot-blooded young soldiers wolf-whistled, nudged and wheedled, Seras would pointedly ignore them (sometimes even with her nose turned up) and go over to the people she liked being around.

She walked right by rich bloke offering a huge bouquet of flowers in favor of Pip Bernadotte and the _Wild Geese_ crew.

"What are you doing here?" She beamed as she trotted over to them.

"Isn't it obvious?" one of the men grinned, "We came to see the show!"

"Her, stupid! We came to see _her_ dance!"

"Yeah, but 'we came to see the show' sounds less dirty."

"Since when do you care...?"

Seras laughed.

The men stared in shock. That was a first. She was laughing in amusement instead of getting flustered or angry. She WAS happy!

"At any rate, we came to see the show," Pip said matter-of-factly, and extended a light red carnation.**

He couldn't afford any bouquets even if he wanted to buy one. Which he _didn't_, he told himself.

He would never forget the smile on her face, nor the joy in her eyes, as she approached them. How flattered, how touched, and how overjoyed she was that they came to see her dance her first solo (as the Lilac Fairy in Sleeping Beauty). She seemed like she would cry from pure happiness, yet she smiled more brightly than the moon. She accepted the single flower Pip offered with utmost fondness and tenderness, and looked at it like it was a priceless treasure. She looked at it with more fondness and tenderness than all the bouquets in her dressing room.

"That girl liked our company better than any rich bloke offering diamonds and flowers at that theater," Pip snapped, "Do you think she'd give it all up for some bourgeoisie bastard?!"

One of the men held up his hands in surrender.

"Relax, Captain, we're just trying to help."

Pip sighed. "I know you mean well. It's just... I've looked _everywhere_! Where could she be...?

There was one more place he hadn't thought to look (or, rather, put off looking) and headed there immediately.

"Hey, cheer up, Captain!" his men grinned.

"I'm sure she'll turn up when you least... expect... her..."

The man's voiced died in his throat when he realized where they were heading. They were walking right toward Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop.

Their blood collectively drained from all their faces. Oh no!

Even worse, they noticed a haggard young woman sweeping the mat outside her shop. She was tall, slim and pale, with freckles and long black hair haphazardously tied in a loose bun. She wore the typical impoverished Victorian London woman's dress, with a low-cut lace chemise that exposed her thin white neck, chest and shoulders, a tight black corset to give her non-existent figure a little curve, and thick puffy skirts going all the way to her ankles. Oh no! Rip Van Lovett, nee Winkle! They quickly tried to hide their faces and duck away.

Too late. She looked up.

"A customer!" she rasped.

They froze. "Shit!"

"Wait! What's your rush? What's your hurry?" she cried, ushering them in. All attempts to flee were futile, as she somehow seemed to herd them like a collie herding sheep. "You gave me such a…" she gasped on seeing Captain Bernadotte, "fright! I thought you was a ghost…"

The bell rang as she brought them through the door, and she pushed them toward the chairs. "Half a minute, can't you sit?"

"Actually, I must…" one brave soul said, and tried to flee.

"Sit you down, sit!" she snapped, and shoved him back.

"Shit!"

"Watch your tongue!" And then she relented. "All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks."

"Wonder why," one of the men growled under his breath.

_"Did you come in for a pie, sirs?"_ she sang as she rounded back to the other side of her counter. It was covered in flour, dough, and unfinished pies that were all small and lumpy. Her own hands were covered in flour and dough too, despite wearing fingerless gloves. _"Do forgive me if me head's a little vague…"_

The men glanced at each other.

She then grabbed the rolling pin and squashed one of the many roaches crawling all over the dough.

_Ugh! _

_What was that? _

_But you'd think we had the plague_

_From the way that people keep avoiding…_

"About that, I gotta be…" one of the Geese began, and tried to make a break for it.

"No you don't!" she snapped, grabbed his shoulder and shoved him down.

"Damn it!"

_"Heaven knows I try, sirs!"_ she sang pitiably. She used to be a soprano, and sang often. "But there's no one comes in even to inhale!" She flew some dust off the pies and practically floated over as she placed their pies on the table. _"Right you are, sirs, would you like a drop of ale?"_

"Yes please!"

_"Mind you, I can hardly blame them!"_ she sang forlornly.

"The bugs?"

"The folks! _Lord knows these are probably the worst pies in London_," she sang forlornly, looking over her filthy baking counter sadly.

_I know why nobody cares to take them. _

_I should know; _

_I make them! _

_But good? No! _

_The worst pies in London..._

"Even that's polite!" one of the Geese hissed, and the others nodded emphatically.

_"The worst pies in London…"_ Rip sang forlornly. "If you doubt it, take a bite!"

"I believe it," Pip said.

"Come now, you're all right!"

Reluctantly, he took a bite, and promptly turned green.

"Is that just disgusting?" Rip said. "You have to concede it!"

"It's nothing but crusting," one of the men whined.

"Here, drink this. You'll need it," Rip said, passing out ales.

The men grabbed the tankards and promptly gulped them down, only to spit it back out.

_"The worst ales in London…"_ Rip continued in that forlorn and almost sing-song way. _"Along with all the worst pies in London…"_

"I think I'm going to be sick," one of the men griped.

"And no wonder with the price of meat," Rip said quickly, and sang as she flattened dough with her hands and rolling pin.

_What it is_

_When you get it. _

_Never_

_Thought I'd live to see the day_

_Men'd think it was a treat _

_Findin' poor _

_Animals_

_Wot are dyin' in the street…_

One of the men gagged.

Pip raised a finger and opened his mouth to speak.

"Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop," Rip continued, not allowing him to get a word in.

_Does 'er business, but I notice something weird._

"What's that?" one of the Geese asked.

He got smacked on the head.

_Lately, all her neighbors' cats have disappeared!_

The sick fellow wretched.

"Have to hand it to her!" Rip continued. "What I calls... enterprise! Poppin' pussies into pies!"

"Oh God…" one of the men groaned, clutching his stomach.

There was a visual they wouldn't get out of their heads for weeks.

"Wouldn't do in my shop!" Rip exclaimed, smacking on some dough.

_Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick! _

_And I'm telling you, them pussycats is quick._

Pip quirked a brow.

_No denying times is hard, sirs!_

"I'll say…" one of the men belched, in that way one does only when they're about to vomit.

_"Even harder than the worst pies in London…"_ Rip continued in that forlorn and almost sing-song way. "Only lard and nothing more," Seeing the men's faces, she approached them. "Is that just revolting? All greasy and gritty?"

"It looks like it's molting!" one of the men whined, poking it with his fork.

"Indeed, sir! And tastes like..." Rip stopped herself, and then smoothed her apron over her skirt. "Well pity a woman alone...with limited wind…"

This statement was directed at their captain, whom they knew she had long had a crush on, but he chose to ignore that pointed cry for attention. Instead, Rip floated back to her counter and continued kneading the dough with her dirty, unwashed, slightly gloved hands.

_And even harder than the worst pies in London!_

_Ah, sirs, times is hard, sirs. _

_Times is hard!_

Having said all she wanted to say, Rip continued making pies at her counter without another word. Most of the Geese settled down, since she was no longer saying disgusting things to upset their stomachs. Not knowing what to say, they awkwardly poked at their pies and grimaced at their drinks. Captain Bernadotte, who was much better at adapting to awkward situations, leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette.

"You've a room over this shop, don't you?" he asked as he exhaled the smoke. "If times is so hard, why don't you rent it out?"

"I won't go near it! People think it's haunted."

"Haunted?" Pip asked.

"That's right," Rip said, "And who's to say they're wrong? A year ago, something happened up there. Something not very nice."

He and his men exchanged worried glances.

Rip then sang, slowly, forlornly, and nostalgically:

_There was a dancer full of life.__  
_

_And she was beautiful...__  
_

_A proper artist without strife,__  
_

_But they blacklisted her for life.__  
_

_And she was beautiful..._

"Victoria, her name way," Rip said softly, "Seras Victoria."

The men looked at each other and gasped.

So this is where she was staying! And this was the friend with the pie shop she mentioned!

"Blacklisted, you say?" Pip said, "What was her crime?"

Rip's voice cracked like glass. "Foolishness."

The men shivered.

Rip continued in a very lofty and sing-songy way:

_She did ballet, ya see.__  
_

_Pretty little thing.__  
_

_Silly little nit.__  
_

_Had her chance for the moon on a string...__  
_

_Poor thing…!__  
_

_Poor thing…!_

"What happened to her?" Pip asked.

"I'm getting there," she said, then continued in the same melancholic tone:

_There was this judge, ya see...__  
_

_Wanted her like mad!__  
_

_Every day he'd send her a flower__._

_But did she come down from her tower?__  
_

_No! Turned away and danced by the hour__  
_

_Poor fool!_

_Poor thing!_

It was common knowledge that most ballerinas were poor girls from poor backgrounds, despite being dressed in silks, satins, tulle and tarlan tutus. Also that many rich blokes sent flowers and presents to curry favor. Also that during and after shows, many hot-blooded men in the audience would invite them to dinner or bed. Since most ballerinas struggled to make enough just to live, so some would encourage these affections to get more elaborate presents, fancy dinners, and money to pay for rent, meals, and costumes. Those that played their cards right could get wined and dined for they were worth. And many rich men did pay for the... pleasure of their company.

Seras always refused, of course. The reason she worked so hard at the pub was to pay her own expenses, so she wouldn't have to put out for anyone. The Geese sneered at first, for who would turn down being wined and dined by some rich old fart, just for a bit of flirting and sex? As they got to know her though, they were glad Seras turned down admirers. Not because they liked her as a prim, proper, priggish, prudish "Victorian Woman," but because working longer hours at the pub meant they got to see her more often… and their captain fell deeper in love with her.

Pip suddenly remembered the rich blokes holding the bouquet that Seras had darted right past to say hello to the _Wild Geese_ crew.

"So she turned him down," Pip said, "That's not surprising. Lots of girls turn down favors."

"Not this one, dearie," Rip said. "He's weren't used to being told no, ya see."

"You'd think he'd get used to it," Pip grimaced.

He barely remembered that old bloke, but he looked truly old and ugly.

"Well, he wasn't, apparently," Rip said, "When she turned him down, he got back at her tenfold. Since he was this judge, ya see, he had connections in the law. Had them pull her off the street, took her to a 'lock hospital' to test for venereal disease. One of those asylums opened after they passed the Contagious Disease Act," Rip explained, "To protect poor infected soldiers from prostitutes bearing diseases. Do they check or treat the men? God no! Heaven forbid! Better to pull random women off the street, whether she's a whore or not. Never bother to check or release her if she's innocent. Better to detain her in those lock hospitals for a few weeks at least. Eventually they let her go, but only after they've subjected her to the most degrading tests possible. When she left, she had no maidenhead to speak of, poor thing.

The horrifying reality dawned on the men.

"You mean...?"

"They...?"

"That's right," Rip said soberly.

_She said no to this judge, ya see._

_So he merely shipped her to a lock hospital, _

_They did,_

_Leaving her with nothing but grief_

_And a black mark on her record._

Pip, who was always one to keep his emotions in check, broke out into a look of horror he had not made since the day he discovered his family were mercenaries, many years ago.

_She was fired from ballet, ya see,_

_Rejected by every respectable employer _

_She sought after._

_But did she use her head even then?_

_God no! __Heaven forbid!_

"I don't like where this is going," Pip said.

"Neither do I," Rip said.

_"There was still that judge, ya see... _

_Still wanted her like mad! _

_Every day he still sent her a flower. _

_But did she come down from her tower? _

_No! Sat up there and sewed by the hour. _

_Had to make her rent money somehow or other._

_But did she give him a nod or a simper?_

_No! She thought she could not fall any farther._

_"Ah, but there was worse yet to come, pure thing!"_

The Geese all felt deep foreboding.

The mood darkened in the entire room.

Rip became much more serious as she sang:

_Well, Beadle calls on her all polite. '_

_The judge,' he tells her, 'is all contrite. _

_He blames himself for her dreadful plight. _

_She must come straight to his house tonight!' _

_Poor thing! _

_Poor thing!'_

Pip could just see Seras. Beautiful, innocent, naïve, trusting Seras. Still beautiful but tired and worn out from round the clock hard work. Desperate for any kind of respite. Looking up with those large blue eyes. Wanting to believe that someone was offering her help and not a trap. Following that sickly, skinny beadle down the street, her eyes wide and skyward, her hands on her apron, searching for any kind of help available.

_Of course when she goes there... _

_Poor thing! Poor thing! _

_They're having this ball all in masks. _

_There's no one she knows there!_

_Poor dear! Poor thing!_

Pip could just see it. Beautiful, kind, trusting, but common Seras. Seras, who was not good at socializing or reading people. Seras, who would feel lost in a ball full of elegant nobles in masks. Seras. Grubby, sooty, haggard Seras, in her commoners' clothes and her maids' apron, surrounded by ladies and nobles in silks and satins and calico coats.

_She wanders, tormented and drinks,_

_Poor thing! _

_If only she knew what was there in that glass. _

_'The judge has repented,' she thinks,_

_Poor thing! _

_"Oh where is Judge Turpin?" she asks..._

The Geese leaned forward.

_"He was there, alright! Only not so contrite!"_

"Shit!" Pip swore.

_She wasn't no match for such craft, ya see. _

_If only she looked in that glass, poor thing! _

_And everyone thought it so droll. _

_They figured she had to be daft, ya see. _

_So all of them stood there and laughed!_

Pip could just see her, scared and confused. Tipsy from drink, frightened and nervous and unable to defend herself. Led away where danger waited, unable to flee or fight back. Only to struggle and scream, and endure it while everyone laughed. Seras was hurt and screaming, and all of them stood there and laughed…!

_Even when she struggled and screamed, poor thing!_

_All of them stood there and laughed! _

_Poor soul! _

_Poor thing!_

"NO!" Pip shouted, so suddenly that everyone jumped.

That was so out of character for him and his own men were frightened.

"Did no one have mercy on her?" Pip cried, pained.

"So it is you!" Rip cried.

"… Where is Seras?" Pip asked sadly. "Where is ma cher?"

"Poisoned herself. Arsenic, from the apothecary around the corner. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen to me."

"SHIT!" Pip shouted so loud the walls shook, and pounded on the table so hard the drinks spilled over. He leaned forward with his head down, and covered his eyes with his other hand, and was silent for a long time. He looked like he was doubled over in pain. He probably was.

His men looked on him with pity. None of them knew what to say. What could they say? Their captain had left the girl he loved, expected to see her when he came back, only to discover she had been preyed upon by an upper class snake while he had been gone. Not there to protect her. If he had stayed, or if he had insisted she come along, insisted she marry him. Refuse to accept her half-hearted excuses, refused to go without her...

They knew their captain had fallen in love with the girl during their time there. At first he smirked at her like all the others, and had tried to grope her and kiss her like every other… but his smile slowly melted into a loving one, and his kisses had become less lusty and more affectionate. Not that she ever let him kiss her, of course. He tried to hide his smiles under smirks and his affection under lecherous words and advances, but they could all see it. She could see it. They could all see it, clear as day. The way she smiled back, the way she looked at him when he said something they all knew contained his hidden affection… they felt sure she loved him too.

The way she smiled warmly when she served him meals, the way her hand brushed his shoulder as she walked by, the way she leaned closer to him when he talked to her and looked up almost dreamily when he talked about things she liked… and the way she blushed and screamed in indignation when he tried (and failed) to steal a kiss. How flustered and angry she looked... it was cute. It was obvious. They were sure she loved him too.

But when it came time to take a new job, she refused to come along. She was visibly sad when she found out, and seemed like she would genuinely miss all of them, but she refused to come along. The Geese did not know why. They did not know what happened between the two of them, as Pip made the offer in private. They did not know what he said to try to convince her to go, or what she said to refuse, as their captain would not tell them, even now. But he was stiff and formal when he left, and she looked sad and regretful as she said good bye.

He said he would write to her though, and she said she would wait for him.

And yet, this had happened. She was stalked by a predator, she was detained and blacklisted, her stalker attempted to blackmail her, she was tricked, drugged, raped, derided and driven to suicide… all because she had refused love and their captain had let her go. They figured the weight of his guilt must be too great to bear.

After several minutes, Pip straightened up.

"How did you say she died, again?"

"A-arsenic, like I said!" Rip faltered.

Pip stared at her evenly for a while, then dropped a handful of coins on the table. "Keep the change," he said, and walked out.

Rip and the Geese gaped in surprise.

"Captain!" they called, and ran after him.

"W-wait!" Rip called after them, but did not chase.

Pip walked silently for a long time, with his head high and his hands in his pockets. His men didn't know what to say or how to react.

"Look, Captain… it's not your fault."

"She didn't want to come. She loved it here in London."

"We couldn't have known what would happen. After all, she managed just fine before we even met her."

Pip walked in silence, his shoulders hunched and his hat over his eye. His countenance was defeated, but his eye was bright with fire.

He thought of the weeks leading up to the ballet he and his men went to see her perform in. It was all she talked about the entire time. Apparently, it was about The Sleeping Beauty, and in it there would be six fairies that each danced their own solos in the prologue. Normally most dancing went to the prima ballerina, and all the others just danced in large groups in the background. Pip thought Seras talented, but she claimed she had started ballet too late to ever become a prima ballerina, and so would just be one of dozens of background dancers her whole life. But for this ballet, she got to play the Yellow Fairy and dance her own solo, in a very light, sunny, and bubbly way.

It was all she thought or talked about for weeks leading up to the play. She worked round the clock to make it work. She practiced harder than ever in rehearsals, came to work exhausted, gasping, and dripping with sweat (not that Pip minded), then worked almost twice her usual hours to pay for the the costume she needed. It still wasn't enough, and a week before Pip silently gave her the money she needed to buy her lilac ribbons. She was so happy, she'd cried.

During the play, he and his men had been bored to tears by the ballet. There was no talking, no singing, nor even raunchy dancing. Just a bunch of posh women and the occasional men all dressed in pretty costumes and dancing painful looking dances. While it was nice to see women with their necks, arms and legs exposed, these men were so used to raunchy dancing, gaudy stripping, and hyper-sexual dancing that this was absolutely prudish by comparison. They wondered HOW soldiers in the audience COULD find it titillating.

But they didn't come because they liked ballet, they came because they wanted to support Seras. And support they did. Pip intended to suffer through it no matter how boring it was, or fall asleep in the attempt, but even he was blown away when he saw how beautiful she looked in her yellow dress and ribbons, and how she danced among the others. While many of the other dancers winced and narrowed their brows in concentration, Seras fell into character. For her solo, she flitted and danced about lightly as high flute music played in the background. She was like a little hummingbird or summer daisy, so sunny and cheerful and bubbly.

Pip was mentally ready to go to sleep or else just spy the background for her for the rest of the show, but then she surprised him by coming out dressed as the Lilac Fairy. He had no idea what happened. Seras had explained that the prima ballerina would play the Lilac Fairy, the most important character in the prologue, until switching to play Princess Aurora once she grew up in the rest of the ballet. Yet, here was Seras.

She explained later that there was a minor accident with the prima ballerina in back and they needed someone else to take her place until it got sorted out. Since Seras was already out of costume, happened to be standing nearby, and had relatively the same sizing, she took her place as the Lilac Fairy on stage.

Pip was happy it happened. Not only was it a pleasant surprise, but her stunning beauty just blew him away. He had seen her dressed in soft yellow and white muslin, gossamer, and tulle, but even he was unprepared by how well her lilac gown accentuated both her innocence and her sensual beauty. She performed a dance that involved a lot of high kicks in different directions (front, back, side, etc) and jumping in place, but she managed to make even that look swaying and elegant. She looked so serene, and danced on the tips of her toes like she really was as light as a feather.

Then some ugly butch hag, or what Pip was convinced was a man in drag, (for "she" was tall and muscular, with spiky orange hair, sickly grey skin, and scars on one side) came in. According to the directory, this was the Evil Fairy that wasn't invited to the Christening and so was about to place a curse on the baby to kill her. However, the Lilac Fairy stepped forward, and softened the curse so that it was not death, but sleep.

Pip would never forget Seras' face as she thwarted Death's Curse.

Through music and mime, the Old Witch would gesture, "Death! Death!"

But Seras stood up to her with steadfast determination, and showed, "Not Death! Just Sleep!"

After the Old Hag left the stage, the King and Queen expressed fear and grief for their daughter. With her sweet beauty and hopeful eyes, Seras gently but firmly assured them, "Not death, just sleep."

Seras often had a run of bad luck, just like everyone else, but she also had runs of good luck. He remembered how sunny and bubbly she had been as she danced as the Yellow Fairy, how graceful and adaptable she had been as the Lilac Fairy, and he would always remembered how firm yet hopeful she had been as she thwarted the curse of death away with the promise of sleep.

The next day, he returned to the pie shop alone. Rip was putting a tray of horrible pies into the oven, then started when she saw his shadow. "Ah! Gave me such a fright, you did!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Lovett," he said.

"Good morning, yerself! What're you doing standing there by the door? Come on in, sir! Have a pie, sir!"

"No thanks. It's not a pie I'm after."

"Well, what is it then?"

"A bit of news," he said casually, lighting a cigarette.

"N-news? About what? I thought I told you everything?"

Pip finished inhaling his cigarette, then locked his eye on hers. "What really happened to Seras."

She froze for a moment, then said, "I-I told you, she poisoned herself..."

"Bullshit!" Pip snapped, for the first time angry.

"It's true! How are you to know different?"

"I know because I know ma cher!" Pip snapped, "And the girl _I_ know would never give up so easy!"

"The girl you know? Oh, pray, what _do_ you know?!" Rip snapped. "Where were you when she was struggling to pay her rent? Where were you when they spirited her away to a facility that locked her up like a mad woman and didn't let her out till they put under the most violating tests? Where were you when she was sobbing uncontrollably after being violated by the most corrupt judge in that court?"

"Did she kill herself?!" Pip demanded.

Rip's expression said it all.

"You lied to me," he said.

"No, no, not lied at all!" she said quickly, "No, I said she took a poison, she did..."

"Ma cher would never-!"

" 'Never looked in the glass,' I said!"

"The judge..." Pip murmured, realization dawning on him.

"Poisoned the drink in her hand!" Rip finished for him.

"Mon Dieu..."

"Arsenic was the poison he had. Meant to make her drowsy and sad. Said the world was spinning, she had. Half-asleep, she stumbled and swooned all all around. Said the world was spinning like merry-go-round. When some men went to grab her and drag her away, said she hadn't the strength to struggle or fight. Said the spinning masks laughed in delight..."

"Ma cher...!" Pip cried in pity.

"Never said that she died!"

"What happened?!"

"She lived, but it left her weak in the head. All she did for weeks was just lie there in bed!"

"Seras!" Pip cried.

"You didn't see how devastated she was from the attack!" Rip cried. Her eyes were filled with fiery passion, and pity. "When she weren't asleep, she would scream and writhe around in bed. Nearly smothered herself trying to muffle her screams with a pillow, she had. Used to scratch till her arms were covered with lacerations and blood. Said she felt like her blood was filled with maggots and mud..."

"My God!" Pip cried.

"Should've been in hospital, but ran away instead. Said she never wanted another man touching her again."

He felt so weak he half-collapsed into a chair and buried his fingers in his hair. God, he was such a _fool! _

_Of course_ Seras would never continue working at a tavern, or theatre, or any other place where she could be harassed or attacked by men. After everything she'd been through, _of course_ she would never want anything to do with that again; or at least not for a long time yet. After a childhood of being lusted over by perverted old men perfectly permitted to sit and watch scantily clad little girls as they practiced stretching and twirling, being allowed to proposition them for "sponsoring. After being approached by rich men and soldiers at the theatre only to be groped and propositioned by the scum of the earth at her tavern...

"MERDE!" Pip shouted so loudly people down the street heard it, and he slammed the table so hard it bounced.

"FUCK!" and he nearly upturned the table, he was so overcome with rage and grief.

"Now, calm yerself," Rip said sternly. "You didn't do it."

"I should have been there!" he shouted. "I should have been there to help her!"

"Now, there's no sense in dwelling on the past. What's done is done, there's no taking it back."

"I should have been there," Pip said again. "I could have..."

"What could you have done?" Rip demanded. "She wanted to dance. She would have done what she thought was right no matter what you said. You know how she is. Sweet as a lamp, but stubborn as a mule. She would've done what she thought was best even if you got on yer knees and begged for her hand..."

"Where is she? Where is she now?"

"I told you, she don't want to be found."

"She'll want to be found by me!" he said.

"You? What makes you so sure?"

"I know ma cher," Pip said, "You must tell me."

Rip smoothed her apron in a way that said the conversation was over. "Well, you said so yerself, you know her best. Why don't you figure it out?"

The next evening found Pip wandering the dark, dirty, gritty, smoggy streets of London. Threats and caresses had all been lost on Rip. No matter how he whined, begged, or wheedled, she would not budge at all. Rip might be "a little vague" in the head, and very whimsy and flighty at best, but she could be very hard and absolute when she so chose. Unfortunately, she was absolute in this matter. Seras didn't want to be found or touched by men, and Rip was going to stand by her friend on this. She would not give up Seras' location to anyone for anything, particularly the type of men Seras would have been terrified of a year ago... or today, Pip thought with a grimace.

So now he wandered the streets with a handful of his crew, trying to look around, trying to figure out where she would be or where she would go. Where would she work? A small shop where she could hang out in back? Perhaps a hat shop where she could make hats in a back room and not be bothered by anyone? A maid or nurse in a rich bloke's household? No-her name was blacklisted, there was no way she COULD get such a respectable job. Perhaps she took to the streets, like many others...

Pip saw a beautiful and buxom woman dancing in the distance, and looked closer. It was just a gypsy woman dancing for coins, with dark skin and long luscious black hair. Not sa cher.

It occurred to Pip that Rip probably didn't rent the room for another reason than people thinking it was "haunted."

"She still rents up there, doesn't she?" he demanded.

As usual, Rip would not outright lie, but she would not come out with the truth either. She gave a very evasive half-truth that would leave anyone guessing which part was true. "... She comes in from time to time. You'd be wasting yer time though. She's grown very elusive in her condition."

The Geese had no idea what that meant, but Pip decided to stay in the pie shop during the day, giving Rip business by buying her pies (though he never ate them) and wander around Fleet Street during the times of day she would be likely to go in or come out of the pie shop. He would watch every person on the street intensely for any sign of her. Unfortunately, after a few days of this, Pip was feeling grim about the whole adventure.

"Maybe we should give up," his men would say.

"Maybe that pie lady lied to us."

"Maybe? She lied from the moment we walked into that door!"

But Pip would not give up. Despite how grim he felt about the whole thing in his heart and head, some small voice buried deep inside himself was telling him to stay. Keep looking, keep trying. Even though logically he felt Rip was lying as much as the rest of them, thought the entire venture was a fool's hope, felt doubtful he would ever see her again (or at least not in a way he wanted to), he stayed on account of that tiny voice, no louder than a spider weeping.

Still, his mood was dark and his hope was slim. As he walked the down the dark street on a particularly smoggy night, with several of his men close by to either help out or try to gently talk him out of this venture, he spied the hunched old beggar woman. She was harassing a smartly dressed man with a coat and umbrella as he walked by.

"Beadle! Beadle, no good hiding, I saw you! Are you in there still?" the man tried to ignore her, and walked faster. "Beadle! _Dear_ Beadle!

_Beadle Deadle Deadle Deadle Deadle dumplin'. _

_BeadeedleDumplin'BeadleDeadleDeadleDeadleDeadleDeadleDeadleDeadleDeadleDeadle...!_

A horrible sinking overtook Pip. The beggar woman had wild yellow hair. She hunched over with more layers of shawls than she would ever need, to hide her figure. She spoke of the Beadle. She was crazed. Arsenic "left her weak in the head," Rip said. Should have been in hospital, "but she ran away instead." If this was all that was left of Seras...!

Pip grabbed the beggar woman in a blind panic and pushed her hair aside. He stared intently into her face.

It wasn't Seras. It wasn't her. The old woman really was that: old. While smeared with dirt and syphilis marks, her wrinkles and bone structure were unmistakable. This wasn't Seras.

The crazed old woman seemed taken aback by his forcefulness, but she soon broke into a half-toothed grin (half her teeth were missing in many different places, scattered around her mouth) and said, "Do I know you?"

After a long pause, Pip had to concede: "I suppose you have. I don't know."

He gave her a coin, politely refused her offer for him to "fish her squiff" and let her wander away.

The crazed old beggar man laughed from the size. "Wasn't who you were expecting?"

"So what if it wasn't?" Pip said.

He was too tired and fed up from this whole trip to care anymore.

The little old man cackled again. "And what exactly have you been looking for, laddie? Your mother? An aunt, perhaps?

"Not that it's any of your business, but a girl."

The old man cackled. "Oh, I see! Want ta have a bit of fun, eh? Beat around the bush, eh? You know here's plenty a brothels around here for that!"

"That's not why I want to see her."

The old man cackled, "What other reason could you have, laddie?"

"For your information, I intend to marry her."

The old man laughed his highest and loudest yet. "Oh, I see! You like it, so you want tae tie a knot around it! Listen tae me, boy. Ladies like that ain't nothing but trouble. You'd be best tae have a bit of fun with her and discard her."

"Since I didn't ask you, I won't listen to you," Pip glared.

This old man was REALLY started to grate on his nerves.

The old man was not phased though. "And what happens when you've had her long enough to get bored of her? You think you want tae marry her now, but once the fun goes, love follows close. You may as well save yerself the trouble and just have a roll in the hay with her now, then dump her swiftly."

"And you can just shut your goddamned filthy mouth!" Pip snarled. "Not all of us want women just for one thing!"

The old man laughed and laughed until he almost rolled over. "And aren't YOU the same lad that used to go roaming these streets looking for a new thrill? Come in and out of the brothels every week? Have a new girl on your arms every night? What's so special about THIS girl that you think you'll want tae keep her every night?"

"If you have to ask, I can't explain it to you," Pip seethed. "She's not like the others. She's... different."

The old man cackled. "I knew it! You can't answer! I understand, lad. I understand perfectly." The old man leered from beneath his hood and beard, "She's a virgin, ain't she? You done sewed yer wild oats, now you want tae plow the field in virgin soil. It's how you are. How all men are. How I was, when I was young. We men fancy ourselves great romantics, capable of sweeping emotions and grand gestures, but really, but our fancies are giddy and unfirm."

"Shut up," Pip snarled.

"You're fine to flit through countless sluts to sate yer thirsts, but once you've planted yer soil ye have no more want of them! Ye come back from being away a year an it's not one of the countless women you lay in the dark with, but the one little wench that told you no! And now you've come back to conquer her too! The one toy you haven't got to play with and that's the one you want..."

"SHUT UP!"

"Till you tire of her too!"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

Pip suddenly grabbed the old beggar man by the scruff and yanked him close to his face. "Ma cher was raped while I was away! And so what if she was? I don't care! I still love her anyway! She could have been taken by one man or a hundred, I would still love her just the same and search for her till the end of time. I'm sure after that she'll be damaged, heart-broken, and want nothing to do with me or any other man. BUT I DON'T CARE! I'll wait for her. I'll wait for her as long as she needs because I love her! It doesn't matter to me because she'll still be the same girl, the same woman I fell in love with! It doesn't matter to me if she's a virgin or not. It never mattered. In fact, it annoyed me that she was a virgin when we met, because she was so stuffy and prudish when we met. We did not see eye to eye, cher and me."

He wavered, but then strengthened his resolve and shook the old beggar man more firmly. "But do you know what? I still fell in love with her anyway. I still thought of her every day. It was still her I thought about all the time, her I looked forward to see every day and night. It's her eyes I when I close my own, still her smile that lifts my spirits when they're dark, and lightens my dreams at night. It's still her I long to be with above all else, and I will search for as long as it takes to find her."

Pip then pulled the old man so his face was inches from his own, and said, "So you can keep your goddamned shallow opinions to yourself, and let men who actually know of love find love."

And with that, Pip shoved him backwards.

The old man stumbled for a moment, but caught himself with the wall right behind him. The old man coughed, then chuckled. It wasn't the high, piercing chuckle he was used to, but a very low and soft one.

"You never cease to amaze me, Mr. Bernadotte."

The Wild Geese crew all gasped in horror and amazement. Pip's eye widened. His heart froze.

The old man let the pipe drop from his mouth. It landed near his bandaged feet. Bandaged feet... Pip remembered how Seras would wrap her feet with cloth several times, round and round around her arches and ankles, good and tight before stuffing her feet into ballet slippers and dancing en pointe around the pub after hours. Her little feet had been bruised and gnarly from years of dancing on the tips of her feet... just like this beggar's.

The old man then straightened. There was no hunch in his back or shoulders. The beggar stood as tall a young woman, and had two large lumps on the chest. After surveying them for a moment, the beggar pulled back the hood and pulled down the beard. The Geese all felt their breaths hitch and their hearts stop.

The hair had been cut short and ragged like a boy's. The face above the mouth had been purposely smeared with soot, along with the hands and feet, but under it, there was no mistake. Those large blue eyes, that pretty little face, those sizeable breasts...

After a few moments, Seras said in her sweet little voice, "Hello, Mr. Bernadotte."

It was like a spell was broken.

Without thinking, without realizing what he was doing, Pip walked over to Seras and enveloped her in a deep kiss.

The _Wild Geese_ crew cheered.

After a few moments, Seras broke away and slapped him clear across the cheek. "STOP THAT!" she screeched.

"Stop what?"

"Stop touching me! What is it? What is it with you men? Do I have a sign written on my face that says, 'Come kiss me, touch me, take me! I promise I'll enjoy it!' ?"

Pip rubbed his cheek almost dreamily and chuckled. "Oh, ma cher..."

"Don't you 'ma cher' me!" Seras snapped peevishly, "Where were you?!"

Despite everything terrible that had happened to her, Seras still looked as adorably, childishly angry and flustered as she did the night they left.

"We've been out sailing the world," one of the Wild Geese crew said.

"Yeah, we've been trying to earn money so we can come back."

"I noticed!" Seras said, "Why did it take you so long to return?!"

"We had many rich blokes that wanted us to carry goods to and fro," the men explained.

"It seemed that every time we were done with one job, we had another employer that wanted us to go elsewhere."

"It wasn't until we finally got a job that allowed us to return to London that we managed to get back."

"Well, you took your sweet time, you did!" Seras retorted.

Her comically childish anger dissipated, and was replaced with deep sorrow. "I was starting to think... I wondered if you would ever come back... if you were even real..."

Pip smile melted into a kind and loving one, and he approached her again. He slowly and gently placed a finger under her chin, so she could pull or push away if she wanted, and then tilted. "Hey, what's with the doubt? I told you I would come back."

"And I said I'd wait," Seras smiled.

Pip grinned, and then said, "So, what's with the ugly get-up?"

The Wild Geese crew snorted and chortled.

"Ugh!" Seras cried, and her face flushed. "I got tired of men grabbing at me my whole life, so I thought, "What do men want to lie with the least?' Beggar women go along unmolested, except for those occasional ruffians that'll lie with anything, so then I thought of beggar men. Regular men don't want them, and women flee at the mere sight of me!"

"I'll bet," one of the men said.

"Hey, you're no catch yourself!" Seras hissed.

Pip was just enchanted by her. He had spent over a year thinking about no one else, missing her, wishing to see her, kicking himself for leaving without her (or just leaving since she would not go away) and now that she was here he just felt deep peace and joy. She kept wanting to pick a fight, but he was just happy she was alive and beside him. He didn't even care if the others could see him mooning over her.

Seras seemed to sense it too, because after a moment she stopped hissing at the Geese and looked up at Pip curiously. Her face was dirty, her hair was a mess, and her tattered clothes were some of the ugliest he'd seen in all the world, but her large, clear blue eyes were the same as they ever were. He still found her to be more beautiful than all the painted, jeweled beauties in all the world.

Pip took her hand in his. "Marry me," he said.

Her eyes watered, but she said, "I can't. I'm not ready."

"Take as much time as you need," Pip said, "We can sail into every port in the world twice before you decided to say yes, and I would be just as happy... to have you there."

The Wild Geese crew all grinned at each other.

Seras looked about ready to cry. She looked almost as though she thought this were a dream. "All right."

The whole streets erupted in the Wild Geese crew's cheers.

Seras yelped as Pip scooped her up into his arms, bridal style, and kissed her as he spun her around.

It would be many months before he was able to spin her around again as his actual bride. It would be many months still before she would agree to lie with him in bed. It would be longer still after that when she could lie with him without needing the light on and him right before her face so she could see and feel that it was really him, and not one bringing her harm. It would be even longer too till either of them could sleep a whole night night terrors and nightmares. And it would really not be for many, many years yet when they could each sleep through a whole night without being woken by a crying babe, because they had plenty over the years, each close to the other, that they always got woken by someone.

But through the whole thing, they were happy. It was not perfect, flawless, fairy tale love that was void of all imperfections and hiccups; but when in life do we have any of those?

The two kissed, and the sun broke through the smog and shined in their souls, and there was no feeling like it in the world.


End file.
